Adventures of the Shire
by Saloma
Summary: Bilbo is in the 'Undying Lands' and dreams himself back to the time when he was a little brat in the Shire, and about his cousins Flambard and Sigismond.
1. Chapter 1: Strawberry pie

**Title:** Adventures of the Shire  
**Author:** Keyla/Saloma  
**Fandom:** Lord of the rings  
**Main characters:** Bilbo Baggins, Flambard Took, Sigismond Took  
**Rating:** PG  
**Summery:** Bilbo is dreaming of his childhood in the Shire when he is in the Undying Lands. Note: I this fic Bilbo and Sigismond are about nine and Flambard is twelve. The facts, such as names and age, were found at . Both Sigismond and Bilbo were born in 1290 (Shire-reckoning) and Flambard in 1287 so heÔs three years older than his cousins. This was made for the fun of writing and my affection for hobbits, and Bilbo especially as I RP:ed him over at CB a while.  
**Authors note(s):** Short and very stupid of course, but what did you expect?  
**Disclaimer:** All the characters are created by J.R.R. Tolkien. I donÔt own them I just write about them, have a nice and fun.  
  
---  
  
_The fire danced in front of his eyes, warm and red..._  
  
A warm light, images, sounds, smells, memories. The Brandywine in the late summer sun - faces from before flashed before his eyes...  
  
The sun shone trough the branches as he ran, they would soon catch up with him - unless... The small hobbit boy turned behind a large oak tree, climbing it to find a hiding spot. From above he could see the two other boys run past, and stop abruptly when they saw that they had lost him.  
  
"Bilbo! This isnÔt funny - where are you?" one of the boys called to the trees and no-one in particular. The other one looked around as if he thought that the third boy would just be standing there, grinning at them - well it wouldn't be the first time.  
  
It was the small laughter that gave him away, he couldnÔt help it, as the two on the ground looked so small and lost.  
  
"Help me up! HeÔll catch on to us soon!" Sigismond almost yelled at him; Flambard was standing right behind his cousin below the oak tree as Bilbo bent down from the branch and helped them up.  
  
"Come back here!" a voice yelled, and the sound of feet running the fastest they could echoed in the forest. The boys sat in the tree trying to keep themselves for laughing as Gerontius ran past. "Oh when I get my hands on you..." he muttered, shaking his head in a most annoyed manner.  
  
"I didnÔt think he was that angry..." Sigismond said almost crying while his two cousins still were giggling because of the prank they had been playing on the Old Took.  
  
"DonÔt be such a child!" one of his cousins said to him, smiling mischievously. "He doesnÔt know we did it..." They looked at each other, not able to keep the laughter in a moment longer.  
  
This the boys should not have done because the Old Took was on his way back and heard their laugh. He hurried to the foot of the tree peering up into the branches. "I know you're there!" Both Bilbo and Flambard became death silent, staring at each other. Sigismond on the other hand was now in the state where he was about to cry unstoppable.  
  
Bilbo eyed his cousin "Hush... DonÔt starts that..." he looked at Sigismond whose eyes were already red and watery. Bilbo reached out and took his hand. "ItÔll be just fine." Flambard nodded and smiled at him as well.  
  
After half an hour Gerontius was too tired of standing beneath the oak tree, waiting for the trio to come down. He turned around and walked away, and after some minutes few the boys dared to claimed down, ran down to the Brandywine river.  
  
"I never thought he would leave" said the oldest boy and smiled at his younger cousin. "But he finally did.  
  
"See weÔre still alive and kicking," Bilbo laughed and took the hand of his same aged cousin, giving it a soft squeeze. SigismondÔs eyes were still red, but now his face was blessed with a smile and he laughed. "Come, I think mum has baked some pie." his cousins smiled when he mentioned food.  
  
"Aunt BelladonnaÔs pie is the best there is in the whole Shire!" Flambard said who had once tasted some of her strawberry pie.  
  
Sigismond looked at him in doubt "My maÔ makes pretty good pie too." he said to the empty air, because the two other boys had already began to walk away.  
  
_The memories of the Shire faded again, slowly he began to understand where he was again..._  
  
He woke up when Lord Elrond entered to room, crouching down by the reading chair. "Bilbo my old friend - daydreaming again?" asked the elven lord, and they smiled at each other, laughing softly. 


	2. Chapter 2: Bestest

_The beam construction of the ceiling became unfocused, fuzzy and sort of dim before the greyish was replaced by light green and darker green shades..._  
  
There was light, and summers last breath before winter. The Brandywine floated by quietly, as if it too was enjoying the last of summer before the cold would take over reign for a few months.  
  
Somewhere from a small grove laughter and yells could be heard. The young hobbit boys thought the clump of trees were a forest, and they themselves were elvish princelings and lords for the day. Sigismond was the valiant elvish prince, Bilbo was the wise elvish paladin, while Flambard was the coward human lord.  
  
The young boy had complained over this for some time, wondering why he got to be a big-folk while they became faerie tale characters.  
  
Bilbo had sat down with him after half an hour of this, after Sigismond (or Enederinion, as he insisted on being called today) had lead the boy aside from the playing area, Bilbo (well, that was Novwethion for the day) explained that elves actually did exist, and that they were even taller then men.  
  
This did not help any, because now the small boy even more wanted to be an elf - not even the others being okay with changing Ankazig for Nardžs‰i worked.  
  
"I want to be an elf!" said the boy for the seventh time in one minute, as stubbornly as ever. "I don't want to be a stupid big-folk!  
  
The two other boys sighed, slapping their foreheads in union, barely suppressing an annoyed groan.  
  
"They shouldn't be called big-folk, they're Ômen', Nardžs‰i." replied Novwethion, slowly as if he thought his cousin would understand this time, if only spoke as slow as possible.  
  
"But I don't want to be a Ôman', I want to be an elf!" he said again, crossing his arms over his small chest. "Why can't I be an elf when you can?  
  
"We're taller then you!" answered Enederinion in a not very pedagogic way. "And your hair's darker than ours.  
  
The last was indisputably true, for the two taller hobbit-lads were in fact a lot lighter in both skin and general built. Sigismond's hair had the colour of wheat when the sun shone upon it, his eyes dark green. He was uncharacteristically tall for a hobbit his age, and his skin was lighter then that of most. When he was younger people joked about him most likely being a changeling, now it wasn't a joke anymore, most were certain that he was a changeling. Bilbo on the other hand was not as tall, neither as lightly built, but still taller and thinner then most younglings his age. His hair was a light brown, bound to grow darker by the years, and his eyes a light brown uncommon among Tooks, but sometimes seen among Bagginses.  
  
Back to the boy sitting miserably on the rock, stubbornly exclaiming he too wanted to be an elf. Flambard, short, chubby, and commonly hobbit like pouted slightly with his lower lip, glaring at his two cousins. "You're older then me!  
  
"Only by a week." Novwethion reminded the other, not saying anything about the three years old older Enederinion. "But in this game it's of course five hundred at least.  
  
"I don't want to play this stupid game." yelled the younger boy, eyes watering like those of young boy not getting things has way usually do.  
  
"But you agreed on it." did the oldest of the three say silkily, biting his lower lip, in a vainful attempt to look like a beaten puppy.  
  
"That was before I knew I'd get to be a big-folk." the young boy sniffled, stubbornly looking down onto the ground.  
  
After a moment of almost complete silence -- completely silent save for all the sounds of nature that never seem to cease, even in small groves -- Novwethion and Enederinion looked at each other, rolling their eyes.  
  
"You're the royal jest, an elf named Dimdolion, and that is our last offer." said Novwethion after yet another moment's silence, a bit harsher then intended.  
  
The youngest boy looked up, for a few seconds not believing his luck, throwing himself around his cousins' necks the next.  
  
"You're the bestest cousins ever!" the boy shrieked, leaving the small grove in absolute and complete silence for a short moment, before the wind resumed blowing through the yellowing leaves, and the birds took up singing again.  
  
_When Bilbo woke up the next morning he smiled, whispering: ÔNo, Dimdolion, you're the bestest cousin.' He had no idea who Dimdolion was, nor why he said cousin; but it all made sense in the early sun rays shooting through the elven-style windows of his bedroom._  
  



End file.
